Filthy Secret

STOLEN

LYRA

Standing in heels has never been my strong suit.

The first time I ever slipped a pair on, it was for a party that required evening attire. I twisted my ankle three times, but I wasn’t about to take off the $500 shoes. I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of my parents’ new friends.

My new friends.

The shoes I’m wearing now probably cost more than $500. I didn’t see the final total. Mrs. Caldwell took care of everything. She had my mother’s blessing, the pair of them swapping credit cards and cash more often than some people change socks. With nearly unlimited spending, it ensured Blaine and I could have the storybook wedding I’d always dreamed about. She’d found me a vintage dress with a strapless sweetheart neckline, complete with a corset bodice decorated in tiny crystals and a tulle skirt so obscenely large it made me look like I was floating on a cloud. It’s beautiful, and with this much fabric, no one can see my knees wobbling.

Every bride is nervous on her wedding day, right?

Stylists bustle around, dabbing powder on my cheeks and chin to ensure the heavy makeup I’m wearing will stay put no matter how clammy my face gets. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, the brown hair that’s pulled back from my face, the way it tumbles over my shoulders in loose curls. The veil tucked into the loose braid makes it look like I have a halo. I look almost ethereal. Eyes lined in black and dusted with soft gold, pink cheeks and lips, skin glowing. I smile to myself, then look behind my shoulder to where my mother stands with her arms folded over her waist. Her eyes are narrowed, a flute of champagne in one hand while Mrs. Caldwell stands beside her, tapping her lips with her fingers. She gasps and holds up her hands.

“There! Stop. Stop!” The stylists freeze at the sharp command. “Finally, I didn’t think they’d ever get it right.”

Spiked heels clack on the wood floor as she stalks over and bends with perfect precision to adjust my gown. My mother comes forward, angling her glass of champagne away from me as she takes my chin in hand and turns it side to side. She clicks her tongue, then sighs, and I wince at the unspoken words. I suppose this will have to do, it’s as good as she ever gets. “Where are they taking pictures of her, Charlene?” my mother asks.

“The gardens.” Ms. Caldwell finishes her fluffing and stands up, framing me with squared fingers. “I want everyone to see how much we’ve

done. Get buzz going about the events we’re hosting in the fall.”

I silently tick off the list of charity socials, political dinners, and holiday parties that are coming up. Parties where men will drink and toast their success, and I will be pulled in eighty directions as guest after guest asks if I’m enjoying my new life as a Caldwell. I will say yes, he’s the perfect gentleman. Our life is everything a girl could wish for.

Hunger gnaws at my stomach. Or it could be guilt for the shift in my thoughts. I should feel grateful. I am grateful. I’m getting everything I’ve ever wanted. This is every girl’s dream right down to the nearly four-carat diamond ring on my finger. Blaine is handsome, charming, and thanks to his family’s generous investments into my father’s company, we’ll be set for life. I’ll never have to worry about money or anything trivial ever again. All I need to worry about is what I’ll do with my free time.

My mother and Mrs. Caldwell head to the door and the stylists follow like trained pets. “Lyra, you stay here,” Mrs. Caldwell directs. “A photographer will be in once they’re done with Blaine, the groomsmen, and the bridesmaids’ pictures.”Property belongs to Nôvel(D)r/ama.Org.

“Be sure to get pictures by the fountain and the peony bushes,” my mother directs. “The flowers will bring out your undertones.”

“Yes, mom.”

“And do exactly as he says. I don’t want you giving him any trouble or questioning their vision,” she adds. “These are professionals, Lyra. Don’t be picky or bothersome.”

My throat tightens but I swallow the lump forming inside it and nod. My mother looks me up and down, then gives me the first genuine smile I’ve gotten in weeks.

“Make us proud, Darling. This is the wedding of the season, maybe even the year. You’ll be the talk of the town for months, so smile pretty, right?”

“I will, Mom.”

“Very good.”

“And get a few sexy pics, too,” Mrs. Caldwell adds with a wink as they exit the room. “As boudoir-esque as you can in the gardens!”

The door shuts behind them, and I finally let out the breath I’d been holding since they laced up my corset. My ankles wobble again as I step down from the small pedestal, and my stomach rumbles. They left a tray of hors d’oeuvres in the room, and I know they aren’t meant for me, but I can’t resist rushing over. It would be horrifying if I passed out during our vows.

I grab a napkin and a chicken skewer, bending awkwardly to keep my skirt out of the way as I eat one, then two, then three before moving onto spinach puffs. I have had nothing since breakfast, and even then, what I ate was minimal. Wouldn’t want to appear bloated in the pictures, after all.

My stomach twists again. Don’t think like that, Lyra. You’re so lucky. You’re going to be so happy here. You are so happy here.

The door to the room opens, and the photographer steps through it. I turn away, dabbing carefully at my mouth so I don’t mess up my lipstick or my foundation. Wincing at the embarrassment of being discovered bent over scarfing down appetizers, I slowly turn to greet the new arrival.

And I freeze at the face that stares back at me.

No… it can’t be. I tilt my head, letting my eyes rake over his face. The square jaw, the broad cheekbones. Bow-shaped lips. The dark, almond shaped eyes.

Cade…

My twisting stomach drops to the floor, and I’m transported back to my old life. The one I left behind, the one I try so hard to forget.

I’m no longer 21, but 17 again, back at a party I have no business being at. Everyone is older, but my friends don’t care. They’re drinking, laughing, and I’m standing in a corner, a can in my hand that I have no intention of drinking from. My friends don’t stick close for long, moving on to whoever pays them a lick of attention while I try to avoid drawing any notice. It’s difficult. No matter how much I try to be the wall a little of the flower peeks out and people pass by, hoping to pluck at my petals.

At least until he comes to stand beside me and clears them all out with no more than a look. Cade Siderus. Former wrestling God. Former delinquent with a temper. Rumor was he got sent away for his tendency to punch people who looked at him funny. Military school, and when that was finished, he enlisted. The Marines, a five-year contract.

Now he’s back, standing beside me, asking if I’m old enough to be here when it’s clear I’m not. He takes it upon himself to get me out of there, and out of the next party. And the one after that.

Cade ends up at every party I’m dragged to that summer and assigns himself as my personal protector. My parents had struck it big, and they had even less time for me than before. Everyone was curious and suddenly wanting an in because we had money. I could buy the pizza for parties. I could fund as much booze as they wanted. It was the only reason anyone was nice to me. Everyone except Cade. He wasn’t interested in my money, or the sudden notoriety. He shielded me from it, kept me close to his side and away from trouble.

He made the long nights when I was home alone a little less lonely.

We spent as much time together as we possibly could, even when school started back up. Cade was stationed an hour away but drove back whenever he had free time to see me. We shared long phone calls, letters, texts. We made plans. He’d signed up for another three-year contract, and I was looking at colleges close to where he was stationed. When he finished, we were going to get a house somewhere quiet and far away. I wanted to get away from this sudden influx of cash that had little to do with me and live life how I’d always planned. Cade wanted to live it with me. His affection and devotion to me were intoxicating, like a dream. He was a riptide that swept me away in his current and was carrying me out to sea.

But as with any riptide, eventually the current breaks and you have to choose: drown in the ocean, or swim back to shore.